It had been one week since the Commissioner had learned for certain that his daughter was Batgirl. On the upside, the knowledge had brought the two of them closer together than they had been in years. The downside was, Gordon now lived in fear of the next time Batgirl would be called into action.
His fear was about to be realized.
The Commissioner’s long-time secretary came into the office. In her hands was the mail of the day important enough to merit Jim Gordon’s personal attention.
“Good morning, Bonnie.”
“Good morning, Commissioner,” she responded as she put the mail on his desk. “I think you’ll want to take a look at that one on top right away.”
He did as Bonnie suggested. Gordon stared down at an expensive-looking envelope, addressed to Batgirl, care of the Gotham City Police Commissioner, from the New Zealand Minister of Police!
The Commissioner was about to ask Bonnie to get his daughter on the phone when he caught himself. ‘Dear me,’ he thought, ‘I hadn’t really thought of this before. To protect Barbara’s secret identity, I’ve got to contact Batgirl the same way as usual!’
“Thank you, Bonnie. I’ll e-mail Batgirl at once.”
His daughter was doing paperwork at her desk in the Gotham Library when her pager went off. Barbara got up, locked her office door, then checked Batgirl’s e-mail. The message read:
Batgirl
I have a letter addressed to you in my office
Commissioner Gordon
Barbara took a deep breath. This would be the first time she had faced her father as Batgirl since she had confirmed her identity. ‘This is going to be strange,’ she thought.
Barbara unlocked her door and then went out looking for her top assistant. It didn’t take very long.
“Myrtle, I have some errands to run. I don’t know how long I’ll be,” she announced. “Until I get back, I leave the library in your capable hands.”
“Of course, Barbara.” Myrtle was used to such disappearances by Gotham City’s Chief Librarian. Myrtle had long been struck by the fact that even though Barbara Gordon spent less time in the library then any of the bosses Myrtle had previously had in her thirty years on the job, the young woman got more done than any of them.
Barbara made her way to the secret room she had established in the building for just such emergencies. After making the tantalising transformation into Batgirl, she headed for Police Headquarters and entered Commissioner Gordon’s office shortly thereafter.
“Good morning, Commissioner,” she said in her disguised voice. ‘You never know who might be listening,’ she thought. “I believe you have a letter for me.”
“Indeed I do,” he said, handing her the envelope. Chief O’Hara entered just as Batgirl read the letter out loud:
Before this moment, Batgirl had never thought of herself as a world-wide role model. She was taken aback and humbled by the idea that she had inspired women halfway around the globe to fight crime.
Dear Batgirl,Inspired by your actions, myself and many of my colleagues decided to follow in your footsteps and fight crime. We have met with considerable success.
Recently, however, a series of bizarre crimes have left my highly trained officers baffled. I suspect I am dealing with an arch-criminal. We need the help of someone who is used to combatting such foes.
I’m sure that with your assistance, we can catch this villain and restore order. If you can help, would you please contact the New Zealand Embassy?
Yours sincerely,
Lisa Brownlee
Minister
New Zealand Police
As if he were reading her thoughts, Chief O’Hara commented, “I might add that a good number of my female officers joined the force because they were inspired by you.”
“Will you go?” inquired the Commissioner.
“As a crimefighter, it is my duty to help apprehend arch-criminals wherever they may strike. Besides, my Bat-colleagues will be available to help you protect Gotham City while I’m gone,” Batgirl declared.
“Well said, Batgirl!” Chief O’Hara commented.
Commissioner Gordon looked at Batgirl worriedly. “Uh, Chief O’Hara, could you excuse us for a minute?”
The Gotham City Chief of Police looked surprised, but took the hint. “Of course, sir. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
After he had left, Batgirl turned to her father. “You won’t be able to play that card very often, Daddy.”
“I know, I know,” the Police Commissioner said with a sigh. He then quickly returned his attention to the subject at hand. “But do you really think this is a good idea, traipsing off to New Zealand, by yourself, to face who knows what?”
“I think this is the perfect time of the year to visit the Southern Hemisphere,” Batgirl observed brightly.
“Can you afford it?” the Commissioner asked.
“You’d be surprised how much I’ve saved up . . . and with the New Zealand government’s cooperation, I may even be able to have the Batgirlcycle with me as well.
“Well, if you’re determined to go . . .” the Commissioner said uncertainly, “. . . but it won’t seem like Christmas without you.”
Batgirl fought back the tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, Daddy!” She gave her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Composing herself, she straightened. “Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have to visit the New Zealand Embassy,” she said, making her exit without looking back.
By departing on Christmas Day, Barbara “Wilson” was able to save a great deal in air fare. She thought back to the pre 9-11 days when she hid her old, green Batgirl suitcase inside Barbara Gordon’s steamer trunk for the trip to Londinium.
This time, at least, she was able to send her vehicle and utility belt ahead, courtesy of the government of New Zealand. Her costume was hidden in a high-tech, secret compartment of her suitcase.
On December 26th, Barbara arrived in Wellington, New Zealand. It was partly sunny and 20 degrees Celsius, 68 degrees Fahrenheit. ‘A nice change from Gotham City,’ Barbara thought. After checking into the Portland Hotel, she transformed into Batgirl and headed for Police Headquarters.
The male constable manning the front desk was so startled by her presence that he left the front desk unattended as he ushered her to the Minister of Police’s office. Batgirl guessed this was probably against regulations, but chose to overlook the gob-smacked officer’s indiscretion.
As the American heroine entered, she saw a brunette in her mid-30s working at a computer terminal. “Hello, Batgirl,” said the woman in a deep, authoritative voice. “I am Minister of Police Brownlee.”
Brownlee stood up and walked over to meet her guest. The Minister’s muscular, five-foot, ten and a half frame meant she towered more than six inches over Batgirl, yet she was also very feminine. Her handshake indicated to Batgirl that she had considerable strength. “Would you please follow me to the briefing room?”
On the way, Minister Brownlee gave Batgirl an impromptu tour of the station, explaining how they were kept up-to-date with advances in forensic science and other modern crimefighting techniques. She then proceeded to show Batgirl a device, about the size of a videotape, which, when placed upon a pad of paper, could reveal what had been written on the previous sheet. “We named this device the Bat-Scanner, after you. We would be honoured if you would take one.”
“I would be honored to take one!” replied an excited Batgirl. Despite her earlier boast to her father, unlike Batman and Batwoman, the Purple Paragon did not have near-limitless resources to finance her calling, so gaining a new crimefighting tool at no cost was a major bonus.
Finally, they entered the briefing room, where Minister Brownlee proceeded to update Batgirl upon the disturbing recent happenings. “In the past three weeks, several commercial fishing boats have been attacked and sunk, as well as three South American vessels carrying lumber. In addition, a large number of South American mammals, aquatic animals and fish have been stolen from zoos and marine parks around the country.
“Hmm.” Batgirl considered a couple of possibilities. ‘Poison Ivy? Penguin?
'Or maybe both of them?!’ Batgirl shuddered inwardly at the thought. For now, though, being unsure, she said, “No, Minister, it doesn’t sound like any of the arch-criminals with which I have dealt. Would you like me to go over everything you have?”
“I will leave you to it,” said the Minister, “but before I forget, here is a visa authorising your crimefighting activities in New Zealand. Also, I’ll have your Batgirlcycle parked out front.”
“Thank you, Minister.”
In just over three hours, Batgirl finished reading a dossier that would have taken a normal person about ten to read. She observed a pattern that had eluded the police. The criminals were targeting companies that had all been condemned in the media by an environmental organisation called WEEP, Women Eliminating Environmental Pillagers.
‘It was two years ago Ivy struck at Christmas time,’ Batgirl thought. ‘I hadn’t heard she’d escaped, but if she has . . . .’ Batgirl had experience of a super-villainess escaping without detection.
A search through the Dominion Post, a local newspaper, revealed that WEEP was now protesting against Capital Fisheries. A subsequent search of the shipping schedules revealed that the Mariner, a Capital Fisheries vessel, was due in port at 0900 hours tomorrow. ‘If Ivy or anyone else attacks that ship, Batgirl will be ready and waiting!’
It was 0852 when, from her vantage point and through binoculars, Batgirl saw the Mariner come into view. Three minutes later, just as the fishing boat was preparing to dock, a large, luxurious yacht seemingly materialised from out of nowhere, right in front of the Mariner. Several women wearing wetsuits boarded the vessel and subdued the startled crew.
Batgirl swung into action. Three of the wet-suited women rushed at Batgirl. Utilising her momentum, she dived to the deck and rolled at the feet of her attackers. All three tripped and landed heavily on the deck. Three quick punches ended their involvement in the fight. Another five women emerged from below deck and, seeing their fallen comrades, prepared to attack the Caped Cutie.
“You’re a long way from home, Batgirl,” a female voice called out from behind her. Turning around, Batgirl glimpsed a gorgeous blonde wearing an asymmetric bikini standing by the rail of the yacht. “I suggest you mind your own business.”
“Crimefighting is my business,” Batgirl replied, keeping one eye on the wet-suited women in front of her, “whether I’m in Gotham City or not. Who are you? and why are you doing this?”
“I’m Amazonia.“
“Well, it seems to me as if I’m not the only one who is a long way from home.”
“Touché, Batgirl.” With a look, she instructed the five women to hold off on their attack. “My father is Brazilian, but my mother is a New Zealander. My goal is to protect the environment. For centuries, Men have destroyed natural ecosystems as they seek to line their pockets. Countless species have been wiped out and many more brought to the brink of extinction. They are well aware of the damage they have caused, but their greed is boundless and so Mother Nature must pay the price. They are the criminals! Women like me have become nature’s champions! We have declared war upon all those who have contributed to this ecological genocide. If you are truly a crimefighter, you should join us!”
“There is an element of truth in what you say,” Batgirl admitted, “but killing people and destroying their property is reprehensible. You can’t take the law into your own hands. Environmental lobbyists have made much progress through peaceful protests. That would be a much better way to achieve your goals.”
“Don’t be so naïve, Batgirl. Many politicians have made their fortunes through their direct exploitation of the environment.
The gains made by environmental lobby groups have been token at best. Overexploitation of the environment threatens the existence of many species . . . but I, Amazonia, and other women like me, will not tolerate environmental destruction any more. There are casualties in any war. Interfere with our plans again and you will become one of them!”
“A great champion of our cause,” Amazonia declared.
“Like you, her ends were admirable, but her means were despicable. You will meet the same fate she did. I’m placing you all under arrest.”
“One moment, please,” said Amazonia, raising a cell phone to her ear. “We are still on schedule,” she said into the phone. “We have just been interrupted by Batgirl... Unfortunately, she has sided with our enemies… I can handle her.” Amazonia put her cell-phone away and resumed her dialogue with the Purple Paragon.
“I’d love to stay and take care of you right now, but I have other matters to attend to. Before you think about following us, in two minutes the explosives set by our WEEPers will take this ship and its crew to a watery grave. I know your kind well enough to know you will not chase us when you have lives to save.”
While the remaining WEEPers boarded the yacht, Amazonia called, “Stay out of our way if you ever want to see Gotham City again.” As the yacht sailed away, Batgirl quickly raced below decks and began her search for the bomb.
It took her ninety seconds to locate the device. She then brought it back to the deck and threw it overboard. An instant later, it detonated harmlessly over the water.
A quick search revealted that one of the unconscious WEEPers had a blank note pad in her pocket. Batgirl decided to use the Bat-Scanner, which revealed the address: 25 RIO AVENUE.
After checking a map, the Caped Cutie called Minister Brownlee, bringing her up to date and telling her where she could pick up three unconscious criminals. The Dominoed Daredoll then mounted the Batgirlcycle and headed for what the Dark Angel of Gotham hoped was Amazonia’s hideout.
The address was located in a warehouse district. ‘Some things are the same the world over, no matter where you go,’ Batgirl observed wryly. She parked her Batgirlcycle in an adjacent alleyway and proceeded to approach on foot. The Caped Crimefightress observed that the rear garage door was ten inches off the floor, more than enough for her to squeeze through. The garage was deserted, so she proceeded into the main warehouse.
In the distance she could hear indistinct voices coming from the far side of the warehouse. Moving cautiously, she got within listening distance. Amazonia was talking to her five remaining WEEPers.
“I have just heard on the news that Batgirl saved the Mariner, along with its murdering crew. We must not let her get in the way of our crusade again. The next time we meet, we shall be ready to deal with her.”
“That might be sooner than you think, Amazonia” said Batgirl, revealing her presence and adopting her hands-on-hips pose. “You’ve sunk your last ship and are about to be sent up the river!”
Recovering quickly from surprise, Amazonia turned to face the Purple Paragon, glaring daggers at her. “Well, well. It seems you have saved me the effort of having to find you. That will prove to be the last mistake you ever make. WEEPers, get her!”
The WEEPers spread out and encircled their intended victim, using their numbers advantage to simultaneously launch multiple attacks from different directions. Batgirl was forced onto the defensive. Despite her fighting prowess, she could not block all of the WEEPers attacks. She knew she must break the circle or, eventually, they would overwhelm her. As two WEEPers made the next attack, Batgirl rolled under their punches. A quick kick to the posterior sent WEEPer 1 crashing into two of her advancing counterparts and knocking them over.
A chorus-line kick connected with the jaw of WEEPer 2, reducing the odds to four to one. As the last standing WEEPer tried to kick Batgirl in the stomach, she felt her plant foot swept from underneath her by the Purple-clad Warrior and crashed heavily to the floor.
As Batgirl advanced on WEEPers 4 and 5, she felt something sharp hit her right shoulder. Turning around, she saw Amazonia lowering a blow gun, a sinister smile on the blonde woman’s face. As she pulled out the dart, she felt her muscles growing heavier by the second. “What’s happen -- happening to m-me?” she stammered.
“The curare on my dart is very fast acting, isn’t it?” Amazonia asked rhetorically. She grinned. “It is a potent paralysing agent, which will soon effect every muscle in your body, rendering you completely helpless. At higher doses, curare can be fatal . . . but that just wouldn’t do. I have something more fitting in mind for you. Your demise will deter other people from interfering with our plans.”
Batgirl was as alert as ever, but she literally couldn't move a muscle. no matter how hard she tried. The criminals sensed her frustration and rubbed it in by patting, hugging and molly-coddling the paralyzed Purple Paragon.
'Not again!' cringed Batgirl. She had been subject to more than enough such treatment at the hands of Diapergirl and her babyslaves.
Amazonia and her WEEPers then took Batgirl into an adjoining room, the walls of which were covered in jungle vines. They shackled Batgirl’s arms and legs in manacles. The manacles were attached to some type of mechanical winch on the ceiling by wire cables. Testing the device, they raised a now horizontal Batgirl until she was looking directly into Amazonia’s face.
“Comfy?” teased Amazonia. Stepping back to the edge of the room, she pulled out a remote control, aimed it at the floor and pressed a button. The floor began to a separate down the middle, each half sliding into the far wall, to reveal a huge pool of water below. One of the WEEPers handed Amazonia the body of a dead lamb.
“I warned you, Batgirl, that continuing to interfere with my plans would lead to your death. Now, observe your fate,” she said ominously, dropping the lamb into the water. Barely a second after it hit, the lamb’s body began jerking uncontrollably as the water around it erupted.
“Red piranha,” said Amazonia. “A school of these fish have been known to strip a cow’s body clean to the bone within a matter of minutes. They will be just as effective on you.” She pushed another button on the remote and raised Batgirl’s prone body some twenty-five feet off the ground. “When I press this button, the winch which is holding you will slowly lower you into the water. The vines covering the walls of this room make it virtually soundproof, so no one will hear you scream.”
Now, if you will excuse me, there are many more environmental criminals out there who need punishing.” With that, she pressed the button and closed the door, leaving Batgirl to her fate.
WILL GOTHAM'S GORGEOUS GUARDIAN BE REDUCED TO A MERE BAT-SKELETON?
TO FIND OUT, TUNE IN NEXT WEEK
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